


Worth It

by irisqod



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anger, Apologies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisqod/pseuds/irisqod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Hamish Watson was furious. How many times had he wished, no, prayed, that Sherlock wasn’t dead?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It

The accusations came fast and hard.

“You utter bastard! You made me watch you jump. Watch you die. I thought you were dead, you insufferable dick!” 

John Hamish Watson was furious. How many times had he wished, no, prayed, that Sherlock wasn’t dead? Every day since he placed his hand on that cold slab of black granite and wished for a miracle. Every fucking day for almost 3 years.

“You jumped, but I fell too. I fell apart! Did you ever stop to think what it would do to me to have to watch you die?” John was close to screaming.

They were standing at the doorstep of 221B. Sherlock knew sooner or later John would come here, so he waited. He had Mycroft pay Mrs. Hudson to keep the flat as it was when he and John lived there. John had moved out, but Sherlock’s things were still there. John boxed up his few possessions, closed the door behind him one day and left. And never went back.

“Come inside, I can explain and you can calm down.” Sherlock waited for John to use his key. He knew he would still have it. Sentiment.

John dug in his pocket, took out the key and rammed it into the lock. He threw the door open and it banged off the wall hard enough to almost slam shut again.

Up the familiar 17 steps to their old flat. This time, Sherlock was trailing behind John. 

What John saw took his breath. Everything was still here, waiting for them, just like he had been. The lab equipment had been cleared away, but all the books, the furniture and even the skull was still there.

And John knew. All at once, he knew.

“You were going to come back all along, weren’t you?” He couldn’t look Sherlock in the eye, not yet.

“Yes, of course I was. But, I needed to die to protect you. And Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. Moriarty would have had you all killed had I not jumped.” Sherlock wanted John to look at him so he could gauge his reaction to what he was saying. “John, please turn around.”

He did. There was nothing but pain in his eyes. “You didn’t just kill yourself that day, Sherlock. You killed me too.”

Sherlock reached a hand out to John, “John I’m – “

“What? You’re sorry? You bloody well should be! I had to go back into therapy Sherlock! Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? To have to sit in that office while Ella made me pick at the wounds you gave me? My nightmares came back too. Not of the war but of watching you fall. Over and over and I could do nothing to stop you! I would wake up screaming. It would scare poor Mrs. Hudson. Christ, I scared myself.”

He was on a roll now. 

“I drove away any friends I had trying to convince them you weren’t a fraud. I stopped dating because every girl I went out with grew tired of hearing your name. And then I found Mary. She saved me from your memory, but she died too.”

“I only know the worst part of it all now.” He laughed. It was a hard-edged sound, no joy in it at all. It was more of a bark than a laugh. “You didn’t trust me.” John took in a deep heaving breath, let it out raggedly and sobbed, “You didn’t trust me, Sherlock.” He put his hands to his face and cried. Great wracking sobs tore from his body and he let them, he wanted Sherlock to see. To see what his death and sudden return had done to him.

When he’d settled a little, John tried to push past Sherlock, but Sherlock caught him up in a fierce hug. John went stiff and did not hug back. It was like hugging a plank of wood in an Aran jumper.

“I am, you know, so very sorry. I learned some things about myself while I was away and I will answer any questions you have.” Sherlock held John and buried his face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. John, please… Say something, please John.”

John pulled free of Sherlock’s arms and stood silence before the detective for a moment, and then he took Sherlock’s hands and held them in his own. Squeezed them tightly.

“Please, leave me alone.” Sherlock’s face fell. “Just for a little while. I learned some things about myself too. I love you. I figured out I always have. There are a thousand questions, but they would come out as more accusations right at the moment, and that won’t help either of us. I need to think.”

John left. Sherlock did not follow.

John loved him, it had been worth it. He could wait a little while longer…


End file.
